


The radiance of stars

by crimsondust



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Les Amis in Space, Space AU, Space Hijinks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-21
Updated: 2017-09-21
Packaged: 2019-01-01 06:59:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12151179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crimsondust/pseuds/crimsondust
Summary: The Fifteenth Empire rules the satellite of Lutetia which the Amis call home, but the amis are building alliances and preparing for a revolution in space.





	The radiance of stars

**Author's Note:**

  * For [seethenewdaydawn](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=seethenewdaydawn).



> For seethenewdaydawn who asked for les amis as space pirates. I had a lot of fun with this prompt, hope you enjoy this. :D

1.

‘Prouvaire was walking around the room with his head buried in the novel and manuscripts peeking from the multiple pockets of his suit.

Courfeyrac and Bossuet entered at that moment, the door swung to let them in. They were carrying armfuls of pamphlets. Courfeyrac was also carrying a tightly sealed box with him in his coat’s jacket pocket.

‘Well, where is everybody?’ he asked looking round the room. Bahorel’s room contained paintings, both digital and traditional on walls, a skull on the mantelpiece and books overflowing the shelves. There were a few Daosarian and Arbisian rugs on the floor as well, as well as a couple of adjustable chairs. Prouvaire’s sundew plant had folded its tentacles and was nodding in the corner.  

Prouvaire himself had not looked up from the book he was reading and Courfeyrac nearly collided with him.  

‘Where did you get this one?’ Courfeyrac looked at the book’s cover in amazement as if Prouvaire was carrying a treasure with him, ‘I’ve been searching for this book for ages.’

‘So have I! I found this in a stall in the markets of Daosar when I went to visit, but I haven’t seen this book here, I have asked everywhere.’

‘So, how’d you get it?’Courfeyrac carefully took out the parcel and opened the safe to put it in.

‘It involved visits to several libraries, auctions and a smuggling ring. It’s a very exciting story, more than any fictional one I’ve ever read.’ Prouvaire smiled at the look of astonishment on Courfeyrac’s face, ‘But it is silly that the government’s censorship bureau is the only place where you can read the books freely. Everything else is censored, all the major books are banned,’ his voice grew loud and full of passion, ‘They are so scared that books will make the people take up arms against the government in revolt like it happened in 24-, or at least cause them to think critically about the government.’ 

Courfeyrac nodded, ‘Agreed, have you looked at the latest decree? I got into an argument with an acquaintance who works in the ministry about this exact thing. Their mainframe with the disk containing the decree somehow ended up catching fire while we were arguing. I expect I shall not be asked for dinner at Ashby’s house ever again, not that I am sorry.’

Bossuet grinned and shook his head, ‘Somehow.’   

‘But what we came to say was that we need to print more leaflets. This batch was ruined and we need more.’ Courfeyrac pointed to the leaflets where the words were all jumbled together and the ink was smudged in several places.

‘That may have been my fault,’ Bossuet said, scratching the remaining few hairs on his head thoughtfully, ‘I misplaced the sheet that I had for the instructions and somehow when I got to the printers after asking for directions and losing my way, I found they were closing, I left the instructions but I doubt they heard it properly. To add to that I forgot my key code and had to wait for five hours outside our flat for Joly to return from the hospital. These new construction projects have made this city unrecognizable.’

‘Maybe we could ask Marie, when it is too dangerous for us to use Enjolras' printshop?’ Courfeyrac asked.

Prouvaire nodded, though he did not know what Marie was up to these days. She ran a few businesses, was often found in literary meetings smoking a pipe with Bahorel and conversing loudly on various topics or occasionally stitching her own dresses. She still insisted on calling him Jean to tease him, everyone else called him Jehan.

If truth be told, he was half in love with her and half intimidated by her. Bahorel had laughed when Prouvaire had told him that.

‘Oh don’t mess with your hair, Bossuet.’  Courfeyrac exclaimed, trying to help him to set the few thin hairs in a fashionable manner, ‘I can bring the curler I have and help you with them or we can try one of those new treatments.’

Bossuet grinned and shook his head, ‘It didn’t work last time. Suzette wondered why I was wearing a hat during the dinner at the restaurant.’

‘And the date?’ 

Bossuet smiled ruefully, ‘I wish her happiness, whoever she may be dating from my acquaintances.’

'If it is any consolation,' Courfeyrac shrugged, 'mine didn't go well either.'

‘Where is Bahorel?’ Prouvaire asked as he took his favourite skull mug from the mantelpiece, sat down on the carpet and poured himself a drink.  The manuscripts were scattered around the floor near him, the book had been carefully kept aside.

‘Probably fighting ghosts somewhere in the galaxy.’ Bossuet grinned.

There was a loud crack as the door swung on its hinges and hit the wall and went back again, Bahorel stepped inside, looking pleased with himself, his face showed signs of cuts and bruises and a broken nose.  

‘Have you been fighting?’ 

He smiled at the look of alarm and hastily reassured them, ‘Don’t worry, it is not as bad as it seems, though Madame Hucheloup practically shooed me out of her establishment. Turns out wearing red waistcoats and going to a demonstration against the government leads to some people being very rude. You will be happy to know that I shouted some excellent obscene words at the swearing-in ceremony of our dearly beloved dictator…before I was kicked out of the gathering. I ran into Enjolras giving a speech in front of several students on my way back.’

‘I brought the cartridges and the bullet moulds from some of the workers. I don’t trust the new guns, the laser technology does not seem to be very accurate, but I have acquired them all the same. I need to get some shooting practice done when I go home in the summer.'

‘Send my regards to your family?’

Courfeyrac grinned, ‘They would love to hear from the ‘thorough rabble rousers’ as my mother refers to us. It’s great that I’m not in the line to inherit any land or titles, otherwise there would be a grand scene between my mother and grandmother. I think it was giving up the particle that annoyed my mother the most. My brother and sisters were secretly delighted, though they pretended to disapprove in front of her, I came back only after two weeks, took the first metro out here. Anyway, I should go and meet Enjolras and tell him about this.’

‘If you want to meet him at his printshop, you’re going to have to take bus 25 that leaves in…’ Bahorel looked at the watch which promptly brought up the bus schedules at the click of a button, ‘oh, in less than ten minutes. You’d better run.’

Courfeyrac jammed his hat on his forehead and left the room.

‘I guess I’d better go and check on Grantaire. Even Louison has a limit to her patience in dealing with him.’ Bossuet said, ‘Besides, I owe him a favour after that time he and I ended up in a completely different hotel because our spaceship got stranded in the middle of nowhere. The beds weren’t very comfortable, they have narrow pods which you have to rent by the hour. Everyone there spoke a different dialect, it felt like they did not appreciate foreigners and were overcharging us. It has taken me a couple of years to get used to your southern ones.’

Bahorel grinned and punched him playfully on the shoulder as he went out, still desperately trying to get his few thin hairs to settle in a fashionable manner. There was a new treatment on the market that he meant to try for it.

The newspaper on the table was advertising a play, which was getting popular among the upper classes.

‘The bourgeois dictating what theatre is wholesome to be consumed and what theatre is the latest fad to be avoided, makes me so annoyed. Every time the journalists write these articles I want to start a theatre riot.’

I’ll join you in one.’ Prouvaire said, laying on his back, staring at the ceiling and composing a poem in his head which he wanted to print in their next pamphlet, ‘I saw a wild deer on my visit to the Jardin des Plantes, do you think if the world ended that the deers would survive?’

Bahorel scratched his beard and smiled, ‘Eh? Why this sudden interest in the world ending? You have been cooped up inside for too long, I know your muse dies, if you stay too long, it’ll probably be polar bears next. You should go out, walk around the city, it’s not as cold. I think I’m going to go to the bookstore and pick up my order.’

‘Funny you should mention it, I went to see a polar bear yesterday, it looked so forlorn in its icy home gazing at us. I would ask Combeferre about them, but he has been too busy and I haven’t seen him for what feels like several years,’ Prouvaire sighed dramatically.  

They parted, walking towards the opposite ends of the city, Bahorel put his hands in his pockets as he whistled a revolutionary tune. Prouvaire went to see some of his poet friends, who had asked him for lunch.

 

2.                                                          

Combeferre was on a different satellite, several hours away. He had been conducting a study on a species of moths that were resistant to the strains of diseases that they were discovering. The mice in their studies had died in the span of several hours on contact with this particular virus. Combeferre worried that a specific strain of that disease, caused by a mutation in its DNA might be found in humans as well, though no deaths had been reported so far from it.

He had to collect the moths; those rare creatures with the bright, delicate wings which changed colour, were not found here, but on the satellite Daosar, their neighbour.   

‘What have you to report, M. Combeferre?’ the captain of  _Zamorra’s Treasure,_ asked him. She was a few younger than him and went straight to the point as he embarked on her ship and they sailed off for Lutetia.

Combeferre thought of the heroine Zamorra from the cheap paperback novel he had once read, but instead straightened his glasses and cleared his throat, ‘The results were inconclusive, Captain. We have no idea whether this particular strain can be cured.’

‘You did not find any moths in the forests?’

‘Oh, we found plenty.’

Joly who was nodding off at this point because he was tired, rubbed his eyes and strained his ears to listen.

‘I don’t understand.’

‘None of them upon dissection have the signs we were expecting.’

‘But surely if you put them in contact with the mice in your study?’

‘We did. They died in equal numbers. They were not as resistant as we had initially thought. We are still far away from the cure.’

The captain sighed, her skin glowed slightly green in the light from the overhead lamp, ‘Well, my job was to take you there and back again.’

She directed her first mate, a Daosarian like her, called Masud who pressed a couple of buttons and the ship changed its direction.

Combeferre, too wearied from his work and travel, sat down next to Joly who was leaning on his cane.  

‘I wonder how Bossuet is doing, I miss him.’

‘We’ll be back on Lutetia in 48 hours. You really have to marvel at the speed of these ships.’ The counter overhead was showing speed of upwards of 10,000 miles per hour.

‘I know, I guess I’m just disappointed that we did not discover what we had hoped for.’ He looked at the creamy white walls around him. A few paces away, another scientist was talking about dark matter and the new discovery he had supposedly made about it, while the rest of them were listening to him sceptically. A young scientist was sitting reading a book on insects, while her name tag was visible, ‘Euphrasie Fauchelevant.’

‘Not quite.’ Combeferre said, unzipping his backpack to take out his notebook and lowering his voice to a whisper.

‘I made detailed drawings of the moths and of our experiments. There is something there that still gives me hope of discovering more about this strain of virus, the Etra C. It showed differently in the moths than in the mice and if I can discover how or why…’

Joly nodded, ‘Do you think humans can be infected? And we don’t know how the virus manifests itself in humans?’   

‘Yes to both counts.’

Joly began examining his tongue in the mirror opposite him, ‘Do you think we could have been infected?’

‘You’re fine Joly, you don't have any of the symptoms.’ Combeferre laughed before adding ominously, ‘I think.’

‘There’s something that I remember from a childhood story from my parents’ story book, ‘In those days we were exploring the planets, people were starting to move to Lutetia, my parents themselves were one of the first to arrive here. The story would always start with the children navigating their pretend spaceship to the Evening Star. I must have asked my mother to tell that story to me a half dozen times. The exploring the unknowns, not just in space, but in diseases, in other things, is something that still excites me.’

‘Me too.’ Joly agreed, ‘To the Evening Star.’    

The spaceship continued on its journey towards Lutetia, France’s satellite several light years from Earth. Combeferre began marvelling at the glittering expanse of space that was visible from the window and wanted to take pictures of certain asteroids and satellites that he had not seen before. He had opened the window and was peering through it, before the captain snapped at him to stay in his seat and shut the goddamn window.  _Didn't he know how incredibly dangerous and stupid it was to open a window on a spaceship?_ The captain shook her head in exasperation.

 

3.

Enjolras was excited to show Courfeyrac how they had updated the printing press.

‘It only takes a couple of minutes for the entire process using the machines as long as you know how to operate them,’ he was explaining amid the noise and the whirring of the machines.

There was a muffled sound from somewhere outside, Enjolras pressed a button hastily, the entire room seemed to shift right before Courfeyrac’s eyes and the printing press was replaced by false wood panelling. A song about travelling to the lunar base started blaring from somewhere.  

Courfeyrac looked around the shop which had been transformed into an ordinary room, in wonder. 

Enjolras smiled reassuringly at his friend's look, ‘It doesn’t do to advertise that we deal in printing banned or subversive materials. The printing press itself can be hidden at a moment’s notice and we are always very careful about it. The music isn’t mine. That’s my aunt’s old record collection.’

Courfeyrac grinned, ‘Your aunt has good taste in music. I know because this is the music I grew up on. My brother still swears by this band and has been to all their concerts.’

The visitor at the door turned out to be a very fluffy cat. Courfeyrac picked it up, ‘You are a cute little spy,’ the cat booped his nose with its paws and purred happily in his arms, ‘Yes you are.’

‘Do you know,’ he began as they walked along the streets, autumn had turned everything around them to gold. They stopped at the signs announcing the arrival of a hover bus, ‘Our neighbours, very upper class ones, called us very colourful names which were featured in the newspapers and e-bulletins, because we threw a party in the middle of the night. They also make fun of the theatre we like to watch, which reminds me, have you seen the latest musical?’

Enjolras shook his head and smiled at the enthusiasm of his friend.

‘Well it was good, though Bahorel and Combeferre spent several hours debating about theatre of the upper classes, which will not go against those who fund it, to make any revolutionary statement. Prouvaire and Bahorel want to write their own musical about…’ Courfeyrac scrunched up his eyes trying to remember, ‘of a group of protagonists who discovers new worlds. Prouvaire said it was supposed to show the vastness of space as a metaphor and he intends to include revolutionaries in it.’ 

Enjolras laughed, 'Sounds like something I’d be interested in.'

'Oh yes, we're definitely going to cast you in it and you can give a rousing speech about revolutions and the necessity of setting up communes on space stations.' Courfeyrac smiled taking Enjolras’ arm as they walked together. Enjolras looked alarmed at the thought before he realised that there was a mischievous twinkle in his friend's eyes. 

 

 4. 

‘Humans have plunged into the recesses of imagination. We have conquered the moon, established colonies on different planets and yet remain hideous inventions, very Frankensteinian monsters that terrify anyone who first catches sight of them. We are given the illusion of liberty, but we are not so free, none of us. We must do what we do every day for our entire lives, an endless circle of repetition. Enjolras talks of liberty but Enjolras is made of fine marble, he is not like ordinary men. He can speak of freedom while keeping his eyes fixed above and of virtue and honour, with those chaste lips, which alas, never look favourably in my direction.' 

Grantaire had found himself continuing the monologue which he had started in Cafe Musain during their meeting, which had not been very productive. Grantaire had been singing the fourteeth Empire’s national anthem during their discussion.   

Lesgle, who had been leaning against the counter, sipping his drink, smiled, as Grantaire paused here. He offered Grantaire one, which bubbled and frothed and turned a shade of blue and then purple.

‘What is it?’

‘Isn’t it the rule to not ask about the ingredients of the cocktail before you’ve drunk it?’

Grantaire considered the sagacity of the argument and drank it all in two or three gulps, 'You, it seems are in possession of good advice and fortune tonight.'

Bossuet laughed, 'It seems I am however missing the wings to fly, since Joly isn't here.'  

He realised that he wanted to say something to Bossuet beyond the jokes that he used to hide how he was feeling. He ended up saying nothing, the silence filled around them while the televisions and mini screens went on blaring in the distance.

'And he scores the winning goal...' the commentator was shouting.

A few people were playing virtual pool near their table, the constant noise was too much to bear. It had been a new experiment by the government, make sure the people are happy so they can't complain. When they had been young, they had enjoyed it all, but as they got older, they felt weary of this kind of entertainment.  

'Look at the televisions and the radios here, spouting words in quick succession. Words are easy, my dear Legle. Anyone can make them flow without making them mean anything. Words are deceivers, yet they are all I have. A little thing, hardly worth noting and I was unable to employ them, Enjolras gave me a chance to talk to some of the workers and…' Grantaire was doodling little sketches absentmindedly with a pen on a tablet before deleting them all.

Bossuet placed a hand on his shoulder, 'We're friends, Grantaire I hope you'll remember that. Enjolras believes you’re capable of so much more.’

‘A terrible mistake.’  Grantaire clicked and unclicked the pen in his hands.

‘How can it be? You looked after Joly when he was feeling ill and spent time with him when I was away. You helped Courfeyrac when he was beaten up by the government agents sent by the ministry.'

'Ah! My dear eagle without wings, you stay to hear my musings and try to comfort me. Ill advisable act.' Grantaire laughed again, a bitter echo ringing in his words this time.  

‘Let's go take a walk,’ saying this, Bossuet took Grantaire’s arm and they walked outside Café Musain. Advertisements were showing as holograms in front of them, they promptly turned off theirs. A hover bus floated near them and they got on it. Grantaire who seemed cheerful and blamed it on the air outside, wanted to take a walk among the gardens, while regaling Bossuet with the gossip he had heard.

 

5.

Feuilly’s workshop was five minutes’ walk from the last stop for the hover bus. When he returned from meeting his friends for lunch at Café Musain, his co-workers were busy painting and restoring finely crafted jewellery.

He adjusted the microscope and viewed the design on his computer.

His boss frowned at him for being back from lunch a minute late and informed him that his pay would be cut if he started coming late.

‘They cut your pay for the smallest of excuses.’ One of his co-workers grumbled under his breath, ‘Not that the pay itself is great.’

He was only half listening to the conversation, he was currently occupied with cosmopolitan worries: Arbis was occupied by Racadia and Feuilly was heard talking about the injustice of it all, the injustice of colonisation. They were both satellites like Lutetia and Daosar orbiting the planet Artemix, several light years from Earth.  

In his spare time he was learning everything about engineering and space ships that he could. He wanted to explore the avenues of knowledge that were open to mankind.    

‘You seem to be very silent, Feuilly.’ Enjolras asked as he Feuilly met him after work, Feuilly shook his head and said that everything was well.

‘Is it Arbis this time or some other cause that is worrying you?’

‘I do think about Arbis. I think we should have helped them, we must still do what we can to help their revolution.’

Feuilly had always marvelled at Enjolras’ physical appearance, it seemed otherworldly, he would have perhaps, used marble to describe his features. He was like those statues of gods and goddesses in the museums with an ethereal beauty, and yet he was warm. Feuilly slipped his hand into Enjolras’ hand, who smiled at him in turn.  

‘But ---‘

‘I was merely saying that I do sometimes think I am not doing enough for the workers, for the people…there was a strike yesterday too for better pay, many more have been laid off today in several of our workshops. Sometimes I feel in a metaphorical sense, not enough.’

Enjolras stopped, took Feuilly’s hand and squeezed it for a moment, before continuing, ‘that is not true, friend. I am inspired by you, citizen Feuilly, you care so much about everyone. There could not be a better friend, and a better organiser than you.’

Feuilly blushed at the praise and tried to change the subject. He started talking about how he was learning engineering for spaceships during his free time. Having dropped out of college to work, he was keen to make up with vocational study.  

‘I miss this sometimes. The open air, the mountains of my hometown,’ Enjolras said as they walked past a field and Feuilly admired the view. He had always lived in the city and had never visited the mountains and rivers that Enjolras was fond of talking about.

‘For someone who was among the first to upgrade their printing presses to publish e-books, books in multiple languages at once and a vast collection in Braille, you are decidedly old fashioned.’

‘In many ways, yes.’ There was a blush on his cheeks and a smile played on his lips.

‘So am I.’

The sun was setting on the horizon and the sky was like a slice of an agate stone, they stood watching the colours fade slowly and for the stars to take their places in the night sky.  

                                                

6.

Joly rushed over to Bossuet’s side, as soon as they landed.

‘Whoa there! You’re spoiling my style.’ Bossuet grinned, pretending and failing to look nonchalant, as he hugged Joly back.

‘You did not reply to my message.’ Joly said pouting as he navigated the vast airfield with the aid of his cane and service dog. The spaceship in which they had arrived, got ready to refuel and take-off again.

Bossuet kissed his friend on the forehead and whispered something to him causing him to smile and giggle. They had a language all their own, a wonderful mixture of metaphors interspersed with innuendos. Joly began describing the study he and Combeferre were working on and the promises it held for the future, while Bossuet listened. 

Back home, they sat down with steaming hot mugs of a dark brew.

'That is not real coffee, I protest at having to drink it.' Bossuet said making a face.

'We had to drink it while we were in the spaceship and now you have to as well,' Joly giggled at the look of horror on Bossuet's face before adding, 'I wouldn't actually do this to you. I brought you your favourite Daosarian tea.'

He showed the package to Bossuet, who playfully tackled him, while Joly squealed with laughter. 

 

7.

Enjolras was waiting at the other side of the airfield, near the hangar for Combeferre.

‘You came.’ Combeferre was pleased to see his friend welcoming him, as they watched the spaceship take off again.

‘How could I not?’  The quiet pleasure in meeting his friend was evident on Enjolras' face, ‘I was going to make a pun about moths but I restrained myself.’

‘How very kind of you, I’m sure I’ve heard all of them by now.’ Combeferre said dryly, ‘Let’s go take a walk, I want to show you the cherry trees and the particular way they are grown where I work.’  

‘Did you find what you were looking for?’

‘Yes, in the sense that we did not find anything worthwhile but the mission was still a success, we still learned several things we did not know a week ago. It takes a long while for the dawn.’

They had tried growing new plants in labs artificially, but the experiment had not been a success, Combeferre explained. He looked in the distance at the cherry blossom and orange trees, which were carefully being monitored through sensors. The path where they were walking, was covered with flowers.  

He sighed, he believed in progress but he was coming round to the idea of conflagrations that Enjolras argued for in his speeches. He saw the necessity for it every day. The government would let people die of Etra C instead of investing in the research and grants needed to produce the medicines, just to save money, while they themselves lived lavishly, he knew that. He knew too about the necessity of education, which is why one of the aims of Les Amis de la ABC was making sure that everyone had a right to read everything and not just sanitized, heavily censored government education. If education was incomplete, progress cannot be arrived at. Combeferre and Feuilly had taken to giving free lessons to anyone who might want to learn more than they had been taught.

‘The plants can no more thrive in labs than we can live in a regime that controls and tells us how to live. Our souls require nourishment, the freedom to grow however we want.’ Enjolras said, holding out his hands for the pink blossoms which he gathered in his hands and blew in Combeferre’s direction, who laughed and did the same.   

   

8.

‘I thing I might hab a coat.’ Joly said several days later as they sat in Corinthe. Matelote and Gibelotte were trying to get the vending machines that Father Hucheloup had had installed, to work, while Mother Hucheloup was giving unhelpful instructions from the counter.   

‘Old coats are old friends.’ Bossuet nodded, knowing the sagacity of this proverb, since he was wearing one himself.

‘Your metaphors do you justice, Bossuet. How is Musichetta?’

‘She’s berry bell. She hab a lebture she was gibing on liberature.’

‘Long Live liberty! No wonder she is spending part of her time working for our cause.’ 

After a silence, which was spent playing the new game, Grantaire began again, making observations about spring which turned into a treatise on love.   

'Marius blushes, ergo, Marius is in love. Marius' love affairs greatly interest me, has he found the Helen of his dreams? It's a pity he never shows up anymore.'

Bossuet proceeded to beat Grantaire in a virtual reality game they were playing. 

'I wasn't really looking at the cards and now my character is dead. Et tu Bossuet?' Grantaire said making a wry face and pressing the restart button, 'You know, I regret teaching you this game.'   

9.

‘We need to get a move on if we’re going to make it in time.’ Bossuet said as he adjusted his suit. Everyone in Lutetia wore suits that were flexible and resitant to the harsh space atmosphere.  

‘Yes, we’re almost ready.’ Joly said as he and Musichetta appeared all dressed up.

The bell rang and the doors slid open to reveal a dapper looking Courfeyrac.

‘Are you guys coming or do I have to herd everyone like a Mother Hen?’ he began with a grin.

‘Is everyone else ready?’

‘Yes, yes. Grantaire, Marius and Combeferre are with me and the others will come on their own. Prouvaire said only the poets’ work has to be ahead of its time, not they themselves, so I expect they’ll be late.’  Courfeyrac clicked his tongue impatiently. His watch informed him of the bus routes and how much time was left for them to leave.  

The hover bus dropped them at the door of the party.  

 

10.

Prouvaire and Combeferre were watching the live stream of a satellite sent to Planet Pericles in Galaxy Andromeda as they lay outside gazing at the stars.

‘They’re calling it an act of love, an ultimate sacrifice, its death is very Romantic.’ Prouvaire said.

Combeferre nodded, ‘It did further our knowledge of what had previously been thought of as unchartered territory. I hope someday I shall get a chance to man those spaceships. I would love to travel there and see the places never explored.’

‘Even if you never get a chance to come back and end up dying in some lonely forgotten corner, 5000 miles from the nearest space station?’  

‘Even then. I’ve been experimenting with some stuff in my free time, you know what things we might need to survive there, what medicines, what food, etc. The results have been very illuminating,’ Combeferre laughed as he looked at the sky, ‘Just as a word to the wise, don’t mix Alphrene and Safden together, the side effects of these two medicines were, shall we say, interesting.’

The crescent moon glowed yellow in the distance. An eerie calm was spread over the landscape, a few crickets chirped in the grass, a magical spell seemed to have settled over the garden in which they were, Prouvaire thought.  

He sighed with a look of contentment and turned on his back, ‘Do you think I could go visit Hecate in one of these? And travel to Olympus?’

Combeferre laughed, ‘Probably. We’ll go together.’

Prouvaire nodded, ‘I’d like that.’

 

11.

Courfeyrac had changed his address to be near the workers quarters as they planned to build barricades against the government. The director was planning to send the best spaceship with the guards after the rebels. Courfeyrac and Bahorel had attended another demonstration against the government, which was increasingly turning to desperate measures to rein in the rebels. There were to be more crackdowns on the known rebel alliances.  

In those days he was sharing space pods in his rooms with a shy, dreamy young man. 

‘Oh, Marius.’ Courfeyrac said fondly, as he found him near the windowsill, gazing outside at the people in the park, his translation work abandoned. The computer screen in front of Marius was still stuck on German conjugations and verbs.

‘I was writing an essay on the different translations, comparing German literature with English. I’m trying to supplement my income, M. Henri said he’ll pay me for these.’ Marius said, trying to hide the rest of the sheets of paper, ‘Just some poems I’ve been working on. I was hoping I could sell some as well.’  

‘Are you going to let us know who the poems are for?’

Marius' nostrils flared and he blushed. He pretended to look at the computer screen and everywhere else except at Courfeyrac.

The video call with his grandfather had just disconnected. Gillenormand disapproved of him marrying Cosette and would not give him his blessing to do so. ‘Academia pays in pennies. How are you supposed to live comfortably if your future wife doesn’t have any money or prospects?’ Grandfather Gillenormand had said, before Marius disconnected the call.

He dare not let the name of Cosette pass from his lips, it seemed sacred to him. He had found her name after discovering research papers written by her on several species of insects and flowers. He had downloaded them, just to look at her name over and over again.

‘I thought you might be hungry, with all the work, so I brought you something to eat.’ he said dragging a reluctant Marius to his feet. Marius realised with a start that he had forgotten to have anything for breakfast this morning. He swallowed the contents of his lunch hastily, letting Courfeyrac talk about the ABC meetings, only blurting, ‘Down with the Fourteenth Empire, down with the dictatorial regime.’

Courfeyrac shook his head in half amusement, ‘Oh Marius!’ The Fourteenth Empire had not been in power for the past ten years.

Courfeyrac smiled at Marius’ occupation, he had not even noticed what his friends were up to and that Lutetia was on the brink of a civil war, after the coup and the rise of the Fifteenth Empire.

‘What are you doing tomorrow? Perhaps you should come to the meetings again.’

Marius fished around for excuses, Cosette was leaving for Doasar for her research again, this time with her father. Marius wanted to see her, he wished he could have had enough money to travel with her, ‘you see me at night and you give me your love, if you saw me in the morning, you’d give me charity,’ he had told her when she asked him.

Courfeyrac saw the anxious, worried look in his friend’s eyes and did not press the issue further.  

 

12.

The rebels had managed to acquire a ship, the captain of  _Zamorra’s Treasure_  joined their side after yet another riot, ‘riots are bad for business’ she told Enjolras, ‘and I do not appreciate the government aiming their guns at me.’

Several Daosarians, their pale shade of green skins glinting, along with purple-toned Arbisians had joined Enjolras and his group as well. A few Lutetian workers were loading their guns and milling around the quarterdeck, joking and laughing, the rest were busy making bullets and cartridges or preparing below deck to act as a place for the wounded, Eponine and Gavroche were among them; Gavroche was excitedly rushing around, trying to help everyone while Grantaire had fallen into a drunken sleep in the dining room below after trying to give unhelpful instructions.

Courfeyrac opened the package he had kept safe and distributed ammunition. Feuilly was asking questions about the workings of the ship and the Daosarians seemed impressed by his knowledge.

‘There is a taxi requesting permission to board.’

Marius emerged from the taxi and onto the spaceship, blinking at the sudden lights and blushing at the attention he was receiving; he was greeted warmly by everyone. Cosette rushed to meet him and kissed him on the cheek.

The captain had given the keys to Enjolras, ‘She’s yours now. I would suggest changing her name to ABC Enterprises after your group.’

Enjolras shook his head, ‘We do this together, you are as much captain as Feuilly or Combeferre or Courfeyrac. You’re one of us. Besides, I know how much you care for her.’

The captain gave a short sharp laughter which caught Enjolras by surprise, ‘Fine. But call me Marie. Where’s Bahorel?’  

                                                                    

13.

Prouvaire had brought his sundew plant to the battle, it raised its tentacled head from time to time and sniffed the air or made a noise. He was grateful that modern technology had made it so much easier to take care of plants using little robots.     

They were leaning out of the railings and gazing at the stars underneath their ship.

‘Oh this is so beautiful, I wish I could collect them and keep them safe forever.’

‘And last week you wanted to collect the polar bears, Jehan?’ Bahorel laughed.

Prouvaire looked vexed, ‘I see no reason why the crew should have voted off my suggestion of bringing in polar bears to the ship. They are very revolutionary.’

‘Ah! Yes. Of course. They fought in the wars of 18—, during the mini ice ages.’

‘And you know this because you’re immortal and have always been around?’ Prouvaire looked at Bahorel who was wearing his best revolutionary outfit, with an impish glance.

‘Obviously.’ Bahorel grinned, ‘I remember everything from the 1400s. Before that my memory’s not very clear. I would say I don’t own 15th Century clothes, but that would be a lie.’

‘How very lawyerly you’ve argued your case.’

‘Ouch, that was a cruel, cruel hit, Jehan.’ Bahorel said, clutching at his heart dramatically, ‘I have not been inside the law school for several years now and you know it.’

‘You are going to get yourself killed before the battle has even started.’ A voice reached their ears.

‘Death is very Romantic.’ Prouvaire turned round, his face lit up when he saw it was Marie, ‘Oh, to live like an adventurer and die like one. I shall be most happy to walk together with death.’

‘Of course you would.’ Marie rolled her eyes even as she kissed Bahorel’s cheek.

In the decks above, Feuilly was fiddling with the dials and buttons as the ship sailed forward, his excitement at being the co-pilot was visible on his face. Courfeyrac, Combeferre, Joly and Bossuet had joined him, followed soon by Prouvaire and Bahorel. Their enemy came into view, a magnificent steel grey ship, proud of its opulence, grandeur and better technology. Courfeyrac came to Enjolras with the reports from their barricade preparations and they discussed further strategies in hushed voices.  

Combeferre had brought several guns with him while Courfeyrac drew his pistols and sword cane with glee, he amused himself by threatening dire consequences to the enemy ship. Bossuet was also busy hurling insults at the enemy, ‘they want to flaunt their might and yet they cannot get them up,’ he said pointing to the shields and the guns, which were opening at a snail’s pace.

Their own ship’s guns were already in place at the openings in the deck below. Everything seemed to be ready in preparation. Feuilly and the first mate were steering the ship skilfully through asteroids and the orbiting planets.      

The horizon was dotted with pale light emanating from the stars and the young moon. There was a moment, where if you forgot about the two ships meeting in battle and gazed at the galaxy with its dying ember stars which morphed into sapphires as they flew across the horizon, you could witness a painting in the sky. Prouvaire took a moment to gaze at the evening sky and composed a poem which he dictated to the tablet in his hands, before shouting loudly, ‘Vive la revolution, vive l’avenir’ and waving his gun along with the rest. 

In the distance the ships' guns rang out and the fighting started.    

 

                                                                          


End file.
